Page 23 of A Shared Mind

Maybe I was losing my mind? I had the feeling that finding Justin was important, so maybe I should start there?

Chapter Eleven

Justin

I took the Kingshighway exit from Interstate 70. “How far now?”

It’s still a ways away. I’ll tell you when to turn. Man, this has changed in twenty years. We used to ride sleds over on Art Hill in Forrest Park on your right. God, this was a great place to grow up.

“Uh, huh.” I wasn’t in the mood to stroll down memory lane with Ramon. I was supposed to have a date on Tuesday night with Clay Fines, but oh no. I was in St. Louis to try to find the mobster who killed Ramon Blanco.

It was Friday night by the time we got to St. Louis, and I’d told Eve in a text to say I was going to visit my parents in St. Louis. She knew it was a lie, and I had to promise to explain everything when I got back on Sunday—well, that was when I hoped I’d get back.

Damn, you’ll have to go get the hot salami sandwich while we’re here. It’s to die for.

I was tired of Ramon pretending I was willingly with him on this wild goose chase. “I hate salami.”

Oh, damn! Come on man. Your parents were what?”

“Human?” Yeah, I was in a pissy mood.

No, dumbass. Where are your ancestors from? Mine are Italian; came over from the boot.

“Oh, uh, I think my father’s grandfather came to the US from England or Wales. I really don’t know. The history of my family isn’t anything I’ve researched.”

Turn right onto Southwest Avenue in about five miles. We’ll go by DeLuca’s on the Hill. The social club meets there in the back room. I just want to get a look around. Hell, they have great food.

I rolled my eyes at his bullshit. “I didn’t come here for a fucking food tour of St. Louis, Ramon. Can you get the hell out of my body? I’d like to keep my thoughts to myself for a while.”

Ramon laughed. No can do, pizon. If I’m not inside you, I’m too easy to find. Make a right on Marconi and a left into DeLuca’s parking lot.

“How the fuck will I get into the restaurant? They don’t know me at all.”

It’s a restaurant and they have an incredible Italian beef on the steam table. You’re a customer. You go in and ask for a table. It’s a slow part of the day. Once you’re seated, you ask for Marco Espisito. Tell him you’re a friend of Ana’s, my daughter and his niece. Say you worked with her at Sephora in Chesterfield and you want to renew your connection because you moved away and lost touch. He loves Ana as if she were his own.

“God, did your daughter know you at all?” How could I not question his loyalty to his family? The man...spirit...said he had eight kids. How much time could he spend with them?

Ana and her little sister, Gina, are my girls with Marcella—Marcy. She’s Marco’s twin sister. My son Nico is our oldest. He and I didn’t have a great relationship because I didn’t marry his mother. I was a slimeball, what can I say?

“Are you proud of that? Why would someone choose not to marry a woman they loved enough to have multiple children with? Wouldn’t they spend time with their children? If I ever had children, I’d want to be with them all the time.”

You’d think that, but dude, I had a lot of shit going on back then, and by the way, you can’t have children with guys can you? I don’t think they’ve found a way to make that happen.

Look, I had guys coming at me left and right to take my place in the family. Why the fuck would I want those people near my kids? I tried to keep my relationships private from people I worked with because it would put my whole family in danger.

“Whole family? Oh, that’s right. You had five of them. How the fuck didn’t those women claw out your eyes?” I flipped on the blinker and made a right onto Marconi Avenue, turning into the parking lot of DeLuca’s on the Hill. Just as I was ordered to do.

I got out of my SUV and stood in the parking lot, awaiting further instructions. What had I gotten myself into? I wanted to strangle Eve for that fucking séance.

If I ever wanted my thoughts to be my own, I had to fucking do what the idiot in my head demanded. I went into the place through the front door and suddenly all eyes were on me.

I approached the young woman at the host stand and plastered on a fake smile. “Hello. I’m looking for Marco Espisito. I was friends with his niece, Ana. The two of us worked together at Sephora a year ago. She’s a wonderful young woman, and we had fun together when we went out as a group. I just wanted to, uh, catch up with her.”

The host smiled. “Sure. Can I show you to a table? I’ll get Marco from the kitchen.”

I nodded and followed the young woman to a two-top and sat. The place wasn’t too busy, but it was nearly dinnertime. I was sure there would be a lot of customers coming soon because the smells from the kitchen were incredible.

Just ask Marco about Ana. We can come back tomorrow if he’s cagey. Do yourself a favor and order the meatball sub. The man is a master with meatballs. He could probably teach you the best way to handle balls.